The Basement
by weir'wyvern-85
Summary: Erica and Boyd were in the basement at the end of season 2, and they saw everything Gerard did to Stiles (Rated because I'm slightly paranoid)
1. Chapter 1

**Erica's POV while in the basement when Gerard is torturing Stiles—just because. He does get a few extra injuries 'cause I just can't help myself. **

** Don't own Teen Wolf**

It wasn't until she smelled his fear as Gerard walked toward the boy, and when the scent of the man's blood lust circled around her, that she realized that the boy was a part of her pack—wolf or not. Somehow, he had become just as important as Boyd or Isaac was to her, though she had no idea how.

Since she was turned into a wolf, she and the others had been nothing but horrible to Stiles. Threatening him, hurting him, using him when it was necessary, that was certainly not a sign of being pack. Stiles rushing to help whenever he was needed, his loyalty to them, his voice of reason trying to persuade them against doing something stupid—like accepting the bite—had somehow managed to work him into her heart, even if it had annoyed her at the time. His constant presence in those desperate times, knowing that he would be there, that they would all make it through, he reassured her.

Maybe that was why Scott kept him around after being bitten. Not because of their bond before, things changed after the bite, things that were important before were not after as well as the other way around. Stiles, though, was a constant. He was the same person he was back when she was still human, though all the exposure to the supernatural should have changed him at least a little.

Wrists held above her head, numb to the pain she had been feeling for hours, sure her shoulders were pulled out of their sockets by now, she knew that all the pain she was not feeling from her own physical injuries could not compare to the pain from the scene in front of her.

Gerard was smart to turn the electricity on their bindings up before he started on Stiles. The human of their little, dysfunctional pack was slowly becoming unrecognizable under the older man's fists. His gasps of pain were a torture to her that the hunters could never hope to produce through any other means. Boyd next to her was still fighting against his bonds, trying to get in front of the man hurting their pack mate as she just hung their hopelessly lost in grief as she tried not to let herself break.

Tears were streaking down her face, nothing to do with the electric currents running through her body, but everything to do with the boy in front of her, getting the life beat out of him, just for being best-friends with a werewolf. Had there not been tape over her mouth, she would have been howling in rage and mourning, both mixing into a haunting tune, one that was playing in her mind as she watched. All she could see was red as each punch landed on white skin, turning it red with blood as the man's ring dug into the boy's face.

Erica found herself morbidly unable to turn away from the frightening scene of Gerard leaning over Stiles' thin frame, his fists raining down on his face, unforgiving as he laughed manically at the pain he was causing. She could see that Stiles was doing his best not to cry out, but that did not stop his heart beat from escalating in fear and adrenaline, pushing on her eardrums as unmercifully as Gerard's fists on Stiles' face.

After what seemed like an eternity, the old hunter let the boy fall to the ground, making him let out a small 'oof' of discomfort, even though she knew he must be near unconscious. One of his eyes was already swollen shut, the other barely staying open to wearily watch the man standing over him.

"That little speech you gave earlier, I wonder how long it will take Scott to find you" the man said mockingly. "Even with that pungent stench, as you called it. Where is he, hmm?"

Stiles' good eye narrowed in anger at the taunting for only a second before one of Gerard's boots was driving itself into his side. The boy was too surprised to stop his cry which Erica sadly wished could have been loud enough to cover the sound of one or two of his ribs cracking.

His breathing was coming in pants, as his arm tried to move down to cover his new injury, but Gerard was nowhere near finished. He pushed the arm away with the same foot before stomping down on Stiles' side, breaking another rib if the sound was anything to go by.

Tears were coming out of his eyes now, mixing with the blood from the large cut on his cheek from the man's ring. His busted lip quivering as he tried to stop his sobs which could only make his body hurt worse from the torment it was going through.

"Where is your friend now, hmm?" the man asked, walking around Stiles' prone form. "What about the Sheriff, he was at the game after all, he should know your missing by now" a swift jab to the other side of his chest "or how about any of the other werewolves you know, there should be two more besides Scott out there"

Stiles' chest spasms in pain as he coughed out a lung full of blood, before slowly shifting his head to look at Gerard who was now standing at his feet "It doesn't matter… where they're at…." He stopped for a gasp of air, his lungs probably burning as they tried to bring in enough oxygen to keep him going "as long as they're nowhere near you, I don't care what happens to me"

Erica's eyes swam in more moisture than she knew they were capable of producing. His voice was so strong—so Stiles—when he had said those words. Despite his injuries, which should have knocked a human like him unconscious by now, he was still standing up to this psycho. The pure loyalty in his words was enough to have her pulling against her bonds again, trying to break through the currents sliding through her body. The numbness left so she could feel her body's painful jolts as the electricity coursed through it.

"And if I could have kept you from getting these two, I would gladly go through twice as much pain as I'm in now"

She couldn't stop the howl, it was just audible through the tape covering her mouth, a plea to let the human go, to let her deal with all of his pain, she could heal after all. Next to her, a similar sound was trying to escape Boyd, though his was more of a demand, a threat that everything Stiles was going through now would be returned to Gerard two times over.

This only made the greying man laugh as he looked over the two bound wolves, his eyes raking up and down their bodies as though seeing right through them. He turned his creepy smile back down to Stiles whose eyes had closed, though from the sound of his labored breathing, Erica knew he was still awake.

"It looks like you are important to someone, too bad both of them are tied up at the moment" he laughed before bring the heel of his foot down on Stiles' left knee, forcing it into an unnatural angle away from the rest of his body, making the boy howl in pain. His head had lifted in reaction to his knee being broken, but quickly fell back to the ground, as his ribs protested the abuse.

Again the two wolves jerked at their bonds, trying to break free so that could run to the boy's aid, so that they could rip the man's face off and stuff it down his throat for hurting their pack mate. Gerard just continued to laugh at their struggles, seeing their faces contort in rage, fear, and grief for their friend.

"Ha ha," he exclaimed jovially, again looking down to Stiles "I suggest you get some rest while you can. It's going to be a long walk home for you—that's right, I'm letting you go. It's already been ten hours since you went missing from the lacrosse game. If Scott were coming, he'd be here by now, so I have no more use for you" anther kick at the leg he had broken "though I can't wait to hear what story you'll come up with to explain this to your father".

The look of panic that crossed Stiles' face at the mention of his father could not be compared to anything Gerard had made him feel since being brought down here. His heartbeat did not slow until at least an hour after Gerard had left them in the basement, having turned all of the lights out.

When it finally began to settle into the rhythmic beating of a normal sleeping pattern, two words escaped his lips just barely audible even to the werewolves "I'm sorry".

**And there's that. I've never written anything like that, so I'd like to know how you felt about it. Please review! I may or may not continue with this depending on the response I get for it.**


	2. Chapter 2

** Okay, so Stiles gets home pretty much the same way it is presumed he did in the show. For the rest of this fic, I'm going to do a different character's POV-except this chapter which is going to be between two different characters.**

"—Call me if you see any sign of my son!" Sheriff Stilinski said desperately into the phone, closing it just a fervently. Bringing his hands up to his eyes, squeezing them shut, just hoping for this nightmare to end.

"Dad… I'm right here" a voice croaked. A sound that could only be made by someone who had screamed until it was hoarse, probably been dehydrated. That voice, which was so familiar, and so broken.

His eyes popped open and his head spun to the door way of his son's room. Leaning against the doorframe was his son, bloody and battered, slouched, his face almost looking ashamed at having to be seen like this.

"Who did this?" the Sheriff was surprised at how much anger was in his voice, but also upset that it still did not show exactly how much anger he had. Stiles—his son—was standing in front of him, barely managing to stay upright. Someone had hurt his son, nearly killed him, and he was going to find out who it had been.

"It doesn't matter" Stiles replied, talking into his shoulder.

"Who?" he demanded, tightening his grip on his sons shoulders.

"Just some boys from the other team. I was mouthing off, and they jumped me when the lights went out—"

"Tell me who they were Stiles".

He shook his head, stopping and closing his eyes as though it hurt his head. Gently, he pulled his son around, pulling the boy's arm over his shoulder and guiding him to the side of his bed so he could sit down.

Sighing gratefully, he spoke "It was dark, I couldn't tell who it was".

"Stiles" he put a comforting hand on his son's shoulder, making him look into his eyes "If you're scared of someone hurting you because you talked—"

"No, that's not it" he felt his son pull back. It hurt, a lot. He wanted to be there, to do what he could, and at the moment that was catching whoever had done this, but Stiles was reluctant to tell him. More lies, it seemed like that was the only way the two could talk to each other was through lies and misconceptions.

It was not just now that his son was pulling away. For years after his mother had passed, Stiles seemed so scared of losing him that he started taking care of him, making him eat healthy, work out, call when he would be late, things an overprotective parent would do to their children. Now though, he hardly saw the boy.

"Dad, I'm fine, I promise".

"No you're not Stiles" John answered. Even with the block that had been building between father and son, Stiles was still trying to protect him, but that was not a son's duty. The parent was supposed to be the one to protect the child, and he was going to do just that.

"We're going to the Emergency Room" he said it just as he decided it, not backing down at his son's incredulous gaze.

"Dad, I'm fine!"

"We're going" he replied forcefully.

:::::

Melissa nearly lost herself when she saw Sheriff Stilinski bearing the weight of his son on his shoulder, guiding the unwilling boy into the ER. The same boy that she complained about sneaking into her house all the time, eating all of her food, and getting her son into all kinds of trouble, when the truth was she was grateful to him for always being there for his son.

Thanks to years of dealing with these stressful situations, she had enough common sense to call one of the orderlies to bring the boy a wheel chair which he sank into gratefully. His father stood by, never moving a foot away, as they wheeled him into a room.

"Oh my God" Melissa let her calm façade drop as she pulled the door to his room closed, waiting on his attending. "What happened?"

Stiles shook his head, and from the look on John's face that was all he had been getting from the boy. She moved forward and put a hand on the shoulder that was not being held by his father.

"Scott-?"

"Doesn't have anything to do with this and doesn't know what happened. As far as I know, he's fine"

"He doesn't know your back yet either, does he?" she asked. Stiles looked down at his hands folded on his lap and shrugged his shoulders. She could see John's curious look, but Stiles made no move to fill him in and she followed his example.

"He's been so worried, Stiles. You should let him know you're okay" he nodded his head, but she could tell he was not really listening.

"Look," she leaned down and pulled his tiny frame into her arms "just get better, okay?"

She felt him nod against her shoulder and pulled back, giving him an encouraging smile which he tried to return, but only succeeded in tearing open the wound in his lip, making blood spill down his chin.

"Sweetie" she said remorsefully, grabbing some gauze from one of the cabinets for him to hold against his lip until it stopped. "Look, I know the guy who's going to come check up on you, and he's going to make sure you get better, okay?"

"Yeah, Ms. McCall, and if I've got any problems I'll make sure you're the first to know".

Nodding, she gave him another encouraging smile before leaving the room. The normal noise of the hospital that had become a pleasant sound over the years, was pressing on her now. Knowing that someone she knew was hurt, and knowing that whatever happened probably had something to do with her son—

She made her way to the nurse's station as quickly as she could, going straight for the phone. Dialing and waiting for the person on the other line to pick up seemed to take ages, her heartbeat picking up with each passing second until they finally answered.

"Mom?" her son's voice asked from the other line.

"Scott, honey, are you okay?"

"Fine, why? What's wrong?" she could hear the worry, the protectiveness, an edge to his voice that a sixteen year old should not have. She could hear the same things in Stiles' voice.

"Nothing, everything's fine, I needed to hear your voice" she told him. The relieved sigh on the other end made her heart ache at the thought of telling her son about the state his best friend was in. "We found Stiles"

Silence. Ear splitting silence that lasted a life time until the phone exploded in sound "What! Where? Is he okay? Mom! Tell me!"

"Sweetie, he's okay, a bit banged up, he's getting checked out for any serious injuries—"

"Injuries? What's wrong with him, mom?"

"Well—"

"Mom!?" he ordered, voices behind him, urging him to hang up the phone.

"Honey, you should talk to him about this. Right now the only thing he'll say is that he didn't see who did it, but I can tell he's lying. I think he's scared".

"Mo—please take care of him, I have to go. Tell him to call me okay?"

"Honey—" she tried to call him back, but he had already hung up the phone. 'Werewolf business' she guessed. Most of his time was being taken up by that, even some of hers. She felt the skin around her neck where that thing had held her with its tail to threaten her son.

Was that why Stiles wasn't talking? 'Werewolf businesses that he felt he could not share in front of the Sheriff. She let her legs give out, falling into one of the chairs set around the station. If she had been threatened to gain her son's attention, no doubt Stiles would be in the same kind of danger.

Her son was out there somewhere, trying to be a hero while his friend sat in a hospital room, taking the damage, and Melissa found herself wondering who she felt the most sorry for.

Her son who had so much pressure on his adolescent shoulders?

Herself who had no idea what was going on in this town she had lived her whole life in?

The Sheriff who was being lied to?

Or the boy sitting in the hospital room, waiting to find out just how many broken bones he had all because he was best friends with a supernatural creature?

**Well, I'm curious, who are you the most sorry for? Please review. **


End file.
